


you're so damn hot

by agentaomine



Series: tumblr fic prompts [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Stiles is in college, angry drunk!stiles, t for language i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 03:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1842262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentaomine/pseuds/agentaomine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>anon requested: drunk!Stiles hitting on Peter</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're so damn hot

Stiles all but falls onto the seat in front of Peter in his booth, yet somehow manages to keep his drink from spilling. It’s purple and smells incredibly fruity. Erica probably ordered it.

The college student forced himself into a sitting position, staring intently at Peter from across the booth. Peter doesn’t say anything, instead choosing to take another sip of his Scotch. Stiles would get to his point soon enough.

When Stiles did talk, he sounded _angry_. “Why?”

“Excuse me?” he asked, bemused and a little startled.

The brunet let out a frustrated noise and made wild hand gestures.

“That tells me nothing, Stiles,” the werewolf commented, trying to remain patient.

“You’re just- you just! You! What? How? _Why_?” he spat, agitation clearly increasing by the second. He looked like he was about to cry, honestly.

Peter looked around for Scott, who was, of course, not around. Lydia, however, was watching him like a hawk. He acted like it didn’t bother him and turned back to the drunk college student in front of him.

“Do you wake up,” the human began, and then downed the rest of his drink. Peter watched, cautious. “Do you wake up and decide, I’m gonna sexually frustrate Stiles?”

 _Oh_. So that’s why he could feel Lydia glaring at the back of his head.

“You just! You strut around in those fucking _jeans_ and I just. Your ass is like, _whoa._ ”

He really didn’t know how he should be responding to this, so he let Stiles continue ranting. The younger man’s face was flushed and his hands were borderline flailing, but his eyes never left Peter’s face.

“…nd you’re so fuckin’ _smart_ and your voice, wow. Sometimes I jack off thinking of how you’d say the dirtiest shit-“

“Stiles-“

“Are we _not going to address your v-necks-_ “

“Stiles, quiet down-“

“Do you cut them yourself? They aren’t fuckin’ deep enough for you? The other day you leaned over and I swear to god I could see your nipples-“

This was beginning to get embarrassing, he thought, reaching out to pull Stiles’ hands back down to the table.

“Last week, I pulled up to the training grounds, and,“ he hiccupped, and then continued, “and you _took off your fucking shirt._ I had to go back home immediately with a _boner_ , Jesus Christ.”

Peter turned around again to face Lydia, only to find her, Erica, and Boyd _smirking_.

“You’re just so _hot_ ,” Stiles finished, looking positively _miserable._ “I want to bang you.”

The older man stared at him for a moment, and then considered getting another drink.

“Alright,” he said, and paused. Stiles had his face on the table at this point, making pathetic _whining_ noises, Christ. “Just. Don’t throw up in my apartment, Stiles.”

Stiles sat up so fast that Peter worried he’d get whiplash.


End file.
